


Puppet

by emei



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bondage, Captivity, Corsetry, Dubious Consent, F/F, Mindfuck, Multimedia, Sensory Deprivation, Spanking, Watercolour art
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-03-25
Updated: 2007-03-25
Packaged: 2017-11-04 03:33:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/389279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emei/pseuds/emei
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pansy lives in dusk, always waiting for Bellatrix.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Puppet

  


Pansy didn’t know how long she’d been confined to this room. Living without a watch, a wand or a window, she had lost track of the days and nights long ago. Bellatrix’s visits might occur once a day, once a week or every three hours, though Pansy was convinced they weren’t regular because she’d tried to keep track of the time in the beginning. She’d counted slowly, and every time she’d gotten to a thousand she’d drawn a line in the dust on the floor. But she always got lost in the end.

 

Only Bellatrix brought real light into this room. Without her, Pansy lived in an eternal dusk where the only light trickled in through the cracks around the heavy door. Her eyes had gotten used to it and she could make out the walls, the bed, the desk and the well-filled bookcase.  But she could never read any of the books. When Bellatrix came, Pansy was blinded by the sudden arrival of light and blinded again by the lack of it.

 

She wasn’t really sure it was daytime, but she had decided that night was simply when she slept. The rest were her days. This day Pansy sang, all the songs she remembered. She sang incantations to remember the spells, but it was hard to find a fitting melody and eventually she tired of _incendio, diffindo, aguamenti, stupefy_ …

There had to be proper songs she could sing, but she couldn’t remember any. Hadn’t her mother sung? Didn’t Mrs. Malfoy ( _oh, call me Narcissa, dear_ ,) didn’t she sing songs? Yes, Christmas at Malfoy Manor; Narcissa had been singing then. But Pansy couldn’t find any words, only the image of Narcissa in a pale blue robe, her breasts heaving with every breath and her lips moving around the syllables. Now, as she paced back and forth between the walls, Pansy wished she’d listened instead. Both palms against the uneven wallpaper, turn around, one, two, three, four, five, six, seven steps and both palms on the bed and turn around, one, two… Her stomach twisted. Three, four… Bellatrix ought to come soon; she had to. Six, seven, both palms against the wall. But Bellatrix never thought about having to, did she?

One, two, three… There was a new sound somewhere outside. Four, five… Footsteps. Pansy sat down on the bed and hurriedly combed through her tangled hair with her fingers, until the door creaked open and the sudden light blinded her.

“Oh, oh, waiting for me, little girl, my precious doll? Are you good now? Good girl? Will you do as our Lord and I tell you to?” Pansy could make out Bellatrix’s face in the brightness, as she lent towards Pansy and dragged her sharp fingernails across her cheek. The curve of her nose and chin were Narcissa’s in Pansy’s eyes for a short moment before the pain registered.

“Answer me. Are you good yet? Do you fear the Lord, puppet?” Bellatrix grabbed Pansy’s chin and forced her head back. “I said answer me!”

Pansy tried to nod because she didn’t trust her voice.

“So the puppet thinks she’s good now, does she? Has she learnt her lesson? Will she do everything I tell her to and not hesitate?” Pansy’s stomach grumbled and Bellatrix laughed high and shattering; was the puppet getting hungry?  
The puppet could see now, but her eyes still watered. She wished that time would hurry up because this was the worst part. All possibilities were hanging in the air like loose threads and Bellatrix’s course of action was still undecided. She was stroking Pansy’s face with one hand and Pansy could tell that she was making her mind up right now, at this very moment.

“Filth!” she said and released her hold. “I want my puppet clean today, do you understand me? Do it properly or I will be forced to discipline you on behalf of our Lord. He has entrusted me with your re-education, and I am going to make him satisfied.”

And Bellatrix conjured a small barrel of water, threw Pansy a pointed look and left the room, locking the door behind her. Pansy couldn’t see a thing; she slid down on the floor and fumbled for the barrel. While she shed her clothes the familiar shapes in the room slowly started to emerge from the darkness again. The water was cold but blissfully soft against her skin, liquid flowing and rinsing. She couldn’t keep the water from spilling over; it pooled on the floor around her as she kneeled. Pansy tried to wash her hair and submerge her head entirely but the barrel was too shallow. Then, with rivulets of water running down over her breast and back, she tried to comb her hair but the water had only made it stragglier than ever before. 

Without forewarning the door opened again and Pansy sat completely exposed, blinded by the light, naked and wet. Bellatrix laughed; it seemed like the puppet needed some education in dress code and proper manners.

She was going to be educated all right.

Bellatrix raised her wand and Pansy shut her eyes and braced herself. She dared to open them again when she heard Bellatrix saying “ _Alohomora_ ” and nothing else. Apparently there was a large closet, which had been hidden until now, on the far side of the room. Bellatrix looked from the closet to Pansy and back again and raised her wand again. She cast a drying spell, a rough but effective one that twirled all over Pansy at once and left her skin red and scratchy.

“Now then, puppet, we’re going to get you all prepared and proper. Stand up!” Bellatrix’s voice could always go from silky to whip-like in a heartbeat. Shakily, Pansy stood. Bellatrix summoned something from the closet and ordered Pansy to turn around before she’d gotten more than a glimpse of something red and glossy. She quickly found out what it was, as Bellatrix ordered her to raise her arms and started dressing her. The corset was hard and smooth against her stomach, forcing her breasts up and pressing against her ribs. Bellatrix laced it up in the back, pulling hard until Pansy could hardly breathe. Her arms were shaking and beginning to ache from the strain of holding them up, when Bellatrix turned her around again and looked at her with gleaming eyes. Pansy didn’t like to imagine what she herself must look like, dizzy and naked except for that corset squeezing her waist, and all that visible reddish skin. 

She truly felt like a puppet now as Bellatrix continued to play dressing up with Pansy as her doll, and she dared nothing but obey her commands. She got to put on a dress unlike any robes she’d ever worn; it hugged her waist over the corset, hardly concealed her nipples and felt cool and silky against her still naked thighs and buttocks. Bellatrix went on to brush her hair, hard unforgiving strokes that didn’t cease before her hair was shiny and sleek like it hadn’t been since… since before mother was killed, probably.

Bellatrix stepped back and Pansy could feel her eyes wandering hungrily over her body. The way she smiled made something turn in Pansy’s chest, something with sharp edges that hindered her breathing even more and made her knees weaker. Bellatrix sat down on Pansy’s bed, leaned back and said “Now, come here and prove to me that you’re finally obedient”. Pansy tried to obey and went towards the bed, walking with small steps because she felt dizzy and unbalanced by the corset.

“On your knees.” Bellatrix’s heavy breasts were right in front of her eyes now, and Bellatrix was watching Pansy’s every movement with half-closed eyes. She opened her robe, revealing her hard, dark red nipples and spoke again,  
slowly and sensually.

“Stroke them. Suck them. Do as you’re told, puppet.” And Pansy tried. But the skin was surprisingly soft and warm underneath her fingers, and she had never had to do this before. Bellatrix gripped her hair and yanked her head forward, almost pushing her nipple into Pansy’s mouth. The taste was foreign, and Pansy didn’t know what to do with her tongue. Bellatrix noticed the faltering.

“What did I say, puppet? Obey without hesitation, wasn’t it so?” Pansy nodded, and studied the way the silky dress rippled around her knees. She knew what this meant. “This necessitates punishment,” said Bellatrix.

 

  


This was slightly more familiar territory, but still unpredictable because Bellatrix had never wanted to punish her for such a reason before. She had never looked at her like this either, hungrily instead of condemning. Bellatrix ordered her up again and made her bend over the desk. She was forced to stand on tiptoes, the wood was cold against her cheek and she focused on the lamp on the wall, the one that she herself couldn’t touch but that lit up whenever Bellatrix came. Before she’d had time to think, almost before she’d had time to worry, Bellatrix yanked the dress up and there was a draught from somewhere, like wind currents running over her thighs. Then the slap of a hand against her skin, smarting, pushing her hips against the hard edge of the table and she couldn’t stop a whimper. Bellatrix’s hand came again and again and again, faster every time, and Pansy was going to get bruises over her hipbones, and the skin on her buttocks was going to fall off if it didn’t stop soon, and there was a pressure building low in her stomach, oh Merlin.

“So pretty you are, my puppet, all red and open waiting for me.” Bellatrix put her hand back, gently this time, just stroking Pansy’s arse and it made her skin burn feverishly hot.

“You must have been waiting for a long time, I can see that. How you’ve longed to get someone to take care of that pretty little arse of yours…” Bellatrix had broken down all the barriers of her mind a long time ago, but Pansy had almost forgotten that invasion now. But there it was, she had just been waiting for the right moment.

“Imagine what my sister would think! Her perfect son’s perfect little girlfriend having such fantasies during Christmas dinner, oh how I would delight in telling her.”

Pansy could remember that dinner perfectly, how Narcissa’s white neck rose out of her pale blue robe, and how she had wanted to reach out and let her fingers trace that perfect curve. In the silences, when Draco got bored, he’d reached for her and slid his hand underneath her robe. When they were younger he used to make his fingers tap-dance on her knees, but later he’d been quick and demanding, going right for the core. Then he’d taken Pansy’s hand and placed it in his lap, right under his mother’s disapproving eyes. The steel in them had made Pansy shudder and imagine what it would feel like to be their focus, and she’d been boiling all through the sickly sweet dessert.

She was boiling now too, her skin and her mind as memories flashed by like jumbled series of photographs. Bellatrix’s laugh echoing in her skull made them bend, twist and shatter. Images were pulled out of the clutter; some that Pansy thought must have been hidden deep. Bellatrix just singled them out and tugged, made the silvery strands twirl around in the air and coil around Pansy’s legs and feather over her buttocks. She could feel them burning into her skin, like eternal tokens of those moments now stolen from her, removed from her mind and remaining only as sensations etched into her body.

“To be bound, oh yes, how you’d love not to have any responsibility for your actions. My puppet doesn’t want to grow up, the poor little doll doesn’t want to feel burdened by filthy desires… She wants to be weak and overpowered, yes she does. “

“I used to, I only used to,” Pansy mumbled, and she felt the burn of fantasy ropes around her wrists. So naïve she’d been, to be afraid that her body’s desires would pollute her innocence and drag her down. It was always the dark corners of your mind that made you fall deep and kept you there. Lingering childhood loyalties mixed with new insights and duplicities resulted in a highly unstable substance that could blow your life up like nothing. Your body was just a tool, in your own hands or in someone else’s.

Bellatrix moved her back to the bed, and Pansy watched their shadows on the wall; it was like a piece of shadow theatre. The smallest puppet was defeated now, laid down on the bed with her hands bound to the bedposts above her head. Phantoms of her old fantasies seemed to whirl around in the room; her body remembered and blended together the sensations of past and present. Bellatrix’s hands on her flesh, the steel of Narcissa’s eyes and Draco’s dancing fingers made her quiver, contract and open. Her nerves were on fire, she was shaking uncontrollably and there were black dots all over her hazy field of vision.

The echo of Bellatrix’s laugh still remained in the room even though she was silent now, determinedly occupying her hands and mouth. The pressure was still building everywhere in her body and Pansy strained against her bindings, shaking uncontrollably as Bellatrix’s nails sent spikes of pain from her nipples. The dress was bunched up and twisted around her waist in order to expose her cunt to the chilly air and Bellatrix’s fingers and wand. She should have been afraid and she should’ve been disgusted but Pansy couldn’t care anymore. She wanted to explode and shatter, for Bellatrix to slide her wand in deep and for her to take it away, she wanted the small shocks from the wandtip to spread all through her body and she couldn’t stand them.

Bellatrix did push the wand in and lowered herself on top of it, pressing Pansy down with her weight. It was too much and not enough, aching and stretching. Bellatrix screamed and collapsed over Pansy, and she could hear the drumming of her own beating heart, quick like a bird’s. And then, after biting Pansy’s neck with her sharp teeth, Bellatrix just pulled herself off and left.

The thick darkness was velvety against her eyelids, but the tension in her body remained. Everything was burning, her skin felt too tight and her blood was throbbing in her arms and cunt. She couldn’t move.

It was impossible to predict Bellatrix’s visits. She might come every three hours or once a day, and there was nothing Pansy could do about it. She could only wait for the darkness to fall back so that her own life could begin again in the dusk. Trying to relax, she waited.  
It was the only way.

 


End file.
